Page 90 of Murder on Charity Lane

Could be any number of things, including some that verged on the innocent. Though an old man setting aside untraceable cash for the young female employee didn’t sound entirely innocent. At least Vernon now knew where the ATM money ended up. Though not why. Hm. He didn’t see how this helped his case. At least not beyond presenting hard evidence that Frank DeYoung and CJ Moore were entangled more tightly than most employers and employees.

He rifled through the bag as he considered the legal ramifications. Just cash. A bag of petty cash, for these people, tucked away in a quiet hallway. He could pay for two years of college for his daughter with that money—well, after the police scholarships.

“Thank you for calling me,” he said.

“They weren’t sleeping together,” Karina told him.

“No?”

“No, Officer. Though she was controlling.”

“In what way?”

She flicked a World of Goods flyer with her manicured fingernail. “Fifteen years ago, he wasn’t tossing his money at hopeless causes. That’s CJ’s influence.”

“What’s your guess, then? What was he paying her for?”

“My guess is she manipulated him into wanting to take care of her. She wrapped him around her little finger until he thought of her as a daughter. She convinced him it was normal for him to pay her way.”

“Then why’d she shove him down the stairs?”

She recoiled at the brutal language, as he’d intended. “How should I know? Maybe that money was a parting gift? Maybe he was cutting her off and she—maybe he threatened to remove her from the will? I don’t know. That’s your job! My job is just—just…”

“To take care of yourself during this difficult time,” he said.

Her face crumpled, like she was about to cry. “Yes. Thank you. Yes.”

Vernon was about to leave, when a thought occurred to him. “The laptop. Who used it?”

“Frank and CJ. Mostly CJ. He liked her to show him what ‘the young people’ were doing online.” She rolled her eyes. “The young people. As if she’s a child!”

“Mm. I believe nobody logged this device?”

“They used to giggle over videos of hikers slipping in the mud, or a bride tripping into her wedding cake. I’d hear them from upstairs, wheezing with laughter.”

“With your permission, I’ll seize the laptop in an evidence hold.”

“Be my guest,” she told him.

He wrote her a receipt she didn’t want, then started inventorying the desk, just in case. She walked away without a word, and he looked toward the hallway where she’d disappeared.

Grief did funny things to people, but so did guilt.

43

OCEAN

Ocean stepped from her cottage and locked the door behind her. She paused a moment, feeling the sun-drenched air on her face, then crossed the courtyard toward her car. She needed to pick up Riley at school, to drive her to a friend’s house on the Mesa. Normally, she would’ve made her take the bus, but she wanted to spend time with her. Even if Riley was in a mood, Ocean still found her comforting.

She unlocked her car and paused again. Something felt wrong.

Well, of course something felt wrong: the woman she’d been dating was in jail, accused of murder. She’d really liked her, too. She still did, but what if that was just more proof that she couldn’t trust her own taste? First Zoe, now CJ.

She gazed blandly at the Marigold Cottages parking spaces, then shook herself. Enough mooning. Whatever her romantic failings, she needed to help CJ. And to talk to Riley about cheering up Mrs. B, who was as rattled by the arrest as Ocean was.

Even worse, Mrs. B kept trying to pretend she was fine. She was not good at pretense. She still smiled and hugged, asked intrusive questions and offered unsolicited advice, but Ocean saw the cracks in her cheeriness. And she felt helpless to do anything about it. She struggled to see CJ as a murderer; she’d tossed and turned for three nights in a row, wrestling with that, but she had to face the fact that two people had seen her push Frank DeYoung down the stairs.

She started her car, and a rattle sounded from the left rear wheel. One more thing not to think about too closely. She couldn’t afford a serious repair, so she pretended she didn’t hear anything. Which almost worked, except a formless worry kept tugging at her as she drove to Riley’s school.